from a page to a chapter
by thejollypirate
Summary: she's always had quite the crush on him - but they've never passed the line of friends. she sees him all the time in the back of the school library, nose stuck in a book. perhaps confessing her feelings is better now than never. (and perhaps a bit of other activities.)


It's not her fault for noticing him in the back of the school library during lunches or after school. He's almost usually ( _always_ ) engrossed in a book, a new one or not, he's always got a new novel sitting in front of him, his blue eyes scanning the words in a swift manner.

She knows who he is; he is Killian Jones, Captain of the Storybrooke High swim team, but also a very avid reader and intelligent with his own cunning wits.

She'd be very much lying if she says she doesn't have a crush on him.

They've talked before, they're friends.

They text and they chat during lunch, they talk in class if they're sitting next to each other or if they get paired up to do something. It's funny though, out of _all_ the other girls in class, he always chooses her despite being the orphaned kid. He makes her feel safe, he makes her feel like she belongs in this school, that she's not some _loner_ , and she appreciates that, she does notice him and his kind attempts and befriending her and staying loyal.

The library is always too silent, no one ever really being in there besides Killian and the librarian, French Belle, but even then she's in her little room reading as well because she's aware no one would ever cause trouble in the library.

He catches her eyes sometimes, and she blushes slightly most of the time (not that he can see it from a distance). They don't exchange words in the library most of the time, only smiling at each other and waving before she runs off to a stall in the girls washroom, leaning her head against the metal door and sighing to herself.

She's got _more_ than just some little crush.

It takes awhile for her to actually confront him in the library, peeking over at the book he's busy reading before he raises his eyes and sets his bookmark in, giving her all his attention. And that's sweet - he doesn't keep reading and talk to her simultaneously, he _stops_ for her.

"Hello, Swan," he greets with a smile. "Finally come to talk?"

"We already _do_ talk," she retorts, "just that you seem so immersed in these books that you read, I never want to interrupt." She drags a seat out and sits down next to him.

It's so damn quiet, it feels a little weird. They're usually surrounded by so many more people, but it's after school, no one is going to be in the library besides Miss French and Killian anyways.

"I always revel in your company when you offer it." He grins, leaning back in his seat a little. "But what brings you to finally talk today?"

"Oh, uh...nothing. Nothing in particular at least." She shrugs, licking her lips and casting her eyes over his shoulders. Emma brings her eyes back to his, a little inquiring feeling lingering around, curiosity and skepticism. "IthinkIlikeyou."

One eyebrow raises up, a trademark quirk of his, before he leans forward. "Pardon me, love?"

It's like he knows, he _wants_ her to repeat that without letting the word rush and stumble out of her mouth like a run-on sentence. "I think I like you," she repeats a little bit more slowly, biting her lower lip after finally confessing her stupid crush. And for a moment, she thinks he's going to laugh at her and say _of course you do, half the girls in the school do!_ but he doesn't, he's still smiling.

Her eyes flicker to his lips and she notices his drop down to hers too, and then they're kissing, kissing in the back of the school library and she does _not_ regret a single thing.

It's far too sloppy at first, the positions of their chairs getting in the way. But he helps lift her up onto the desk, his hands firm at her waist while he's got his head tilting up, his lips insistently moving against hers hungrily, something she's never expected of him. But he's Killian Jones, popular boy and Captain of the damn swim team, athletic and smart and _everything_ any teenage girl craves. Yet he's kissing her with such passion, fervor that is exchanged between the both of them.

"Emma," he breathes against her lips, the both of them trying to catch their breath.

She's nervous, scared of where this is going because _god damn it_ she's eighteen and it's taken her two years of trying to build up the nerve to admit her feelings, yet she's all nervous and giddy at the same time.

She may never see him again once they graduate this year, but she wants to make the most of it. Now or never.

"I know I like you," she murmurs, correcting her previous statement. She opens her eyes to see his bright grin, only that she's stopped before she can speak again, his lips capturing hers quickly, his hands sliding up and around her back.

She moans quietly, the feeling of him pressed against her, that he feels the _same_ , that the desire between them has always been reciprocated on both ends. It's a relief for her, really. But she can't concentrate much on her mental emotions, not as much as the current burning sensation rushes through her blood, a sense of _need_ coiling around in her stomach.

One thing's for sure, she's not going to have sex with him in the school library. Making out is fine, but _sex in the library_ is not a line she's willing to cross, no matter how wild her heart and mind is at her age.

"I like you, too," he mutters when he pulls back for a breath, his hands sliding up to cup her cheeks. "I've liked you for a bloody long time, Swan."

"Really?"

"Aye," he confirms, lowering her down from the table.

"I thought you didn't."

"I thought _you_ didn't."

They both laugh, pressing their foreheads together. "I didn't know how to tell or show you," she confesses, shrugging a little. "I thought you'd laugh at me and compare me to all the other girls."

"Love, let's get one thing straight. I've liked no one but you. No one has interested me besides you." He picks up the book that's dropped onto the carpeted floor, brushing it off and setting it back on the table behind them. "But I didn't know how to tell you because I thought you'd run off. I thought me being around you so often, choosing you for projects and such, would have been obvious enough. You're oblivious to a man's advancements, sometimes."

"It's not that I never _noticed_ , it's that I never realized that was the message behind them. And you're _not_ a man."

He chuckles, the sound so familiar to her from so many other times they've spent together as _friends_. "I'm getting there."

.~.

It's safe to say they spend most of their time in the back of the library making out than reading or completing homework.

Miss French catches them once, a shy smile on her lips, though full of teasing. "I won't tell anyone."

She glances at Killian and he looks back at her, his lips trembling into a smile before they burst into laughter that has no purpose in being suppressed any further. Belle slips off and Killian soon has his arm wrapped around Emma's waist, pressing a kiss to the side of her head while her shoulders still move up and down from laughter.

"Well that went well."

"You sure about that, Swan?" he asks. "Perhaps I've ought to knock you on the side of the head with my book - activate the proper use of your brain."

"Shut up," she grumbles, rolling around to bury her face in his chest, his other arm wrapping around her in an embrace. "I don't need to get hit with a book, my brain is functioning perfectly fine."

He hums, rocking them back and forth before he steps back once, dipping down and kissing her again, affectionate and loving, and _damn_ she's in love. It's always different yet the same, the feeling of his lips slanting against hers to deepen, the feeling of his tongue tracing her bottom lip seeking entrance. But the emotions, they're the different ones. Sometimes it's desperation, sometimes hunger; other time it's passion, or just simply sweet and short. It differs every time.

But one thing's for sure, their feelings don't waver, but they grow. It's like every day it's a start of a new page, every month a start of a new chapter.

"I love you," he whispers during their last day in the school library.

No one has really ever said those words to her, of course she takes it lightly when he tells her so - despite the genuine tone of his voice. "As much as you love your books, right?"

He looks at her like she's crazy, shaking his head and pressing a feather light kiss to her lips.

" _More_ than books."


End file.
